


Turns Your Crank

by livrelibre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: kink_bingo, Dirty Talk, Fucking Machines, Incest, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livrelibre/pseuds/livrelibre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Bingo prize for annabeth_fics. Dean had always been good with with machines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turns Your Crank

Dean had always been good with with machines. Sam had watched those broad, capable hands most of his life: stripping and cleaning guns; tending to the Impala; making bullets and EMF meters and a hundred other machines, simple and complex, tools to do what he needed, to save them, to take care of his family. So after the first tingle of shock and desire, Sam wasn’t surprised that Dean had made the fucking machine after Sam had confessed his fantasy or that it worked so well, only that he hadn’t known what Dean was making. On all fours on the cheap motel bed, he couldn’t see the steampunky mechanics of it anymore, cobbled together from a dildo Dean must have gotten from the job they’d worked clearing the succubus out of the sex toy shop and mechanical parts from who knew where, maybe spare parts from the Impala or from Bobby’s salvage yard—the look of it patchwork and scarred but solid, compact, and beautiful in its efficiency like all Dean’s machines and Dean himself. But the machine filled all the rest of his senses: the low mechanical whine no louder than magic fingers; the faint scent/taste of engine oil that said Impala; the solid, unforgiving length of it pushing into him steadily and slowly, too slowly. Sam whined, pushing back into the slight burn and ache, the unyielding and alien stretch, full but not full enough. He needed more but he wasn’t going to get it until Dean was ready.

He couldn’t see Dean either but could feel his warm hands on Sam’s hips, slowly pulling him back into the thrusts, angling until Sam cried out from the bright shock when the dildo hit his prostate dead on. “Like that, Sammy? That good? That filling you up right?”, the same low rumble he used sometimes when sweet talking the Impala about how well she was running when he thought Sam wasn’t around to listen or mock.

Sam drew breath and awareness back long enough to bitch, “Quit fucking around and fucking fuck me Dean.”

Dean moved, the bed dipped and he knelt in front of him, Sam’s face just at his crotch. “That’s a whole lot of fucking Sammy. You think you can handle it? Handle me fucking you from both ends?” Despite the low croon of his voice and cocky smirk, Dean was as hard and desperate for it as Sam felt, his face and chest flushed and cock glistening at the tip in front of Sam’s mouth. “You want more? You want me to fill you up all the way, fuck you harder?”

“Please, Dean, please. C’mon and fuck me.” Sam swallowed his pleas with Dean’s cock, as he pushed the tip slowly past his lips, Dean teasing him with it like he had the dildo at first before sliding home. Sam moaned, filled completely by Dean, hard and mechanical at one end, warm and alive on the other. Dean ran a hand over Sam’s sweat-slick back, petted his hair and tugged gently, pulled out and pushed in again, matching his pace to the machine.

“God, you look so beautiful like this Sammy, taking what I give you. Taking it so sweet, fuck. Come on, you can take a little more for me, can’t you?”

Sam dragged air in through his nose and moaned in assent. Dean’s other hand came up from hip height, holding a small remote Sam had been too turned on to notice at the beginning and dialing it up steadily. The machine buzzed, solid steady thrusts hitting faster and relentlessly, winding Sam up higher like a winch, his skin taut and tingling with it. Dean matched the pace, bucking up into Sam’s mouth and tilting his head to use his mouth and throat. Sam’s head filled with white noise, drowning out the steady whine of the motor and Dean’s litany of loving filth, the bliss of being pounded from both ends disconnecting his hearing and his head. He could stay right here for days and die happy, the machine moving between his thighs and him between Dean’s, filled with the solid evidence of Dean’s love—Dean, who would take all the parts he had, patch them together, give Sam what he needed and bring him home. A series of sharp shoves hitting him just right and so hard Sam thought Dean and the machine might meet in the middle of him pushed Sam over the shining edge, falling free and clear.


End file.
